


Translucence

by nameless_bliss



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Brief Explicit Language, Carlos' Homecoming, Cecil has Vitiligo, Comfort/Angst, Established Relationship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, POC Cecil, Post-Coital, Post-Episode: e049 Old Oak Doors Part B, Present Tense, Reunion, Sentient Vitiligo, Time Doesn't Work, Timelines, post-reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:43:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2434178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nameless_bliss/pseuds/nameless_bliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I was starting to lose my mind waiting for you, Carlos. But I did it. I waited. How long are you going to make me wait this time?”</p><p>When Carlos finally comes home, Cecil doesn't expect that he won't be able to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Translucence

Cecil stretches like a cat.

His body pulls in many directions at once, limbs trembling slightly at the strain before going utterly loose. His throat is still working, still humming out noises that might have made him blush if his wits had returned to him yet. He stretches again, minute shifts across the tangled sheets to gauge where he will be sore in the morning. It’s only the usual places. What used to be the usual places. The familiar places. He smiles.

Carlos watches him, supported on his elbows, chest heaving with each impossible breath. Sweat plasters his hair across his forehead like thick, uneven brushstrokes of ink. He feels a bead gather at his temple, slowly sliding down toward his cheek. He runs his fingers over the soft washcloth in his hand before wiping the perspiration from his face, sighing at the small relief it brings him.

Cecil’s mismatched eyes wander over the scientist, drinking in every minor movement with only slightly more contentment than greed. Dark eyes meet his gaze, and his smile spreads further, until his mouth splits in a massive yawn. His limbs snake across the bed again, and he starts to roll over onto his stomach.

“Wait!” Carlos catches his shoulder, gently pressing him back onto the pillows. “Let me get this first.” He folds the washcloth, hiding the side he’s used to wipe his face and using the fresh side to gently clean Cecil’s stomach and chest.

At first, all Cecil can manage is a quiet hum. He closes his eyes as Carlos slowly runs the fabric across his spattered skin, shivering at the combination of textures. “Always so smart. Brilliant Carlos,” he finally manages. His voice is hoarse, the result of the prolonged cries and shouts that will undoubtedly have the neighbors filing an explicit noise complaint again. The harsh tickle in his throat only makes Cecil giggle. “It would appear that you’ve wrecked the Voice of Night Vale, Mr. Scientist,” he proclaims in his scratchy, dizzy voice.

As soon as the washcloth has swept over the smooth plane of Cecil’s chest, Carlos ducks down to kiss the soft skin with smiling lips. “If I recall correctly, Mr. Radio Host...” he kisses again, just over his heart, “...wrecking that gorgeous voice of yours...” he runs his tongue in a quick circle around one nipple, then over to the other, “...is not that hard to do,” he nips gently at the delicate flesh.

Cecil yelps, groaning first at the stimulation to his over-sensitive system, then at the fact that he so quickly proved Carlos’s point. He tries to save face, even as he writhes beneath the scientist’s gentle caresses. “I’m not always… quite that loud.” It’s a weak argument, and he knows it. “It’s just… it’s been a while. That’s all.”

The washcloth is dropped on the nightstand, but Carlos continues the soft sweeping motions across Cecil’s torso with dancing fingertips. Cecil shivers at the contact. Carlos smiles, sadly. “It hasn’t been that long at all, querido.”

Cecil furrows his perfectly sculpted eyebrows. “Yes, it has.” After a moment, he replaces his look of concern with one of bliss, but he has to think through the change in expression before he can make it happen. “I mean, it’s been quite a while since you were actually _here_ \- since I could actually _touch_ you.” He runs his patchwork hands up Carlos’s arms to emphasize his point. “I may have used my voice with you recently, but it’s been a _long_ time since I got to use… anything else.” He smiles, just a little crooked.

The smile cuts through Carlos’s defenses. “Of course,” he mutters, but doesn’t sound convinced. His eyes drop back down to Cecil’s stomach, watching light patches of skin swim across the canvas of warm ebony. Moments ago, Cecil’s body was covered with a design of pulsating hearts, showing his affection as plainly as his broad smile. But as Carlos continues to stare at him silently, the hearts stop beating, eventually morphing into nondescript, neutral shapes.

“Carlos…” Cecil looks him over carefully, trying to understand his expression. No matter how long he looks, he’s still uncertain. And that is maddening; Carlos’s face should be an open book to him. A few pesky months of absence are not strong enough to delete the intricate language of his boyfriend’s expressions from his mind. They can’t be. He won’t allow it. “Carlos,” he says again, though he doesn’t know why; there’s no meaning behind it. His hands slide around the scientist’s ribcage and his fingers splay across his back, tugging him down gently. “Come here.”

The unreadable expression is replaced by a familiar smile. Carlos collapses onto the mattress, Cecil rolling them both so they are lying on their sides, face-to-face. Carlos lets himself be enfolded in long limbs, lets his crooked nose be nestled in Cecil’s wild, spiraling curls, lets the lingering scent of his lavender shampoo overwhelm his senses for a moment as he inhales against his scalp.

Cecil wriggles against him, limbs pliant with exhaustion yet insistent with need. He presses his hands into Carlos’s back, rubs fingers against his spine, twines their legs together, nuzzles into the crook of his neck. Carlos bites back a laugh at the constant motion. “What’s the matter? Can’t get comfy?”

“No,” Cecil almost whines, pausing to run his parted lips across the stubbled jaw that’s too close to resist, “I just… I just missed _touching_ you. And now you’re here and I can see you and smell you and taste you-” a point he proves with a small lick at Carlos’s earlobe, “-and touch you and… and - Carlos, you’re _here_.” He tightens his full-body grip on the scientist, feeling their combined sweat smooth across each patch of naked skin that slides together. The comforter is still hopelessly tangled in Cecil’s feet, but kicking it free would mean lifting his legs away from his Carlos cocoon, and that is unthinkable. “I need to touch you until I’ve made up for all the time when I couldn’t.” He runs both hands along Carlos’s body until they reach his hair, where his fingers immediately bury themselves in the dark, damp mess and tug viciously at the roots.

Carlos tucks his face down into the mattress to stifle a low moan. He automatically tilts his head as far as he can in all directions, savoring the added strain to his scalp as Cecil pulls at his hair with such methodical movements that it somehow evokes absolute reverence in the act. “You’re spoiling me. At this rate, you’ll - mhmm - you’ll be caught up within the hour.”

The soft hum against his face lets him know that Cecil is more than adequately pleased with his reaction. “Then just think of all the free hours I’ll have to keep touching you after that,” he croons, feeling each scratch in his abused throat. He’s just barely caught his breath, and he still exhales a little harder than necessary. The hot breath gusts across Carlos’s neck, sparking a shiver that quakes through both of them in turn.

Cecil suddenly feels the chill of the air against his rapidly cooling skin, casting a murderous glance up at the ceiling fan spinning lazily above them. The blanket trapped beneath their legs seems impossibly far away, but the switch to turn off the fan is all the way across the room - practically in another world. He briefly considers pulling Carlos on top of him and nesting under his heat, but can’t bear the thought of letting his scientist shiver in the cold. With several inarticulate exclamations of reluctance, Cecil manages to release his vice-like grip, shimmying down the bed just far enough to tug the nearest corner of the blanket. He stubbornly tugs it up toward them, haphazardly kicking out his feet to loosen the tangle of fabric. As soon as he has a decent amount freed, he shoots back up to the headboard. Deft hands wrap the blanket around Carlos until only his head is uncovered. Once satisfied with his work, Cecil slides himself into the warm shelter he’s created.

“Cecil…” Carlos sounds hesitant.

That’s not how Cecil wants Carlos to sound. “Oh, I’m sorry, is it too warm? We can take this off and turn the fan off instead. I bet I could hit the switch with my alarm clock if I threw it hard enough-”

“No, querido, that’s not what I meant.” Carlos’s limbs tense inside the all-encompassing embrace of the radio host. “I just… I don’t want to get too comfortable.”

Cecil laughs as he rubs his face through the mane of perfect hair, moving down to mouth at a chilly earlobe. “Gods forbid you get comfy while nakedly cuddled up in your own bed,” he teases, tongue darting out against the soft skin even as he speaks.

“Cecil, I-”

“Mm, Carlos, please… don’t move. Let me just feel for a moment.” His voice strains with an unclear emotion. His limbs wrap even tighter. He breathes deeper. “This bed is too big without you, Carlos. There were nights when I couldn’t even bear all the empty space. I’d sleep on the couch. I’d nestle up against the back cushions just to feel something there. Something that wasn’t… emptiness.” His hands press into Carlos’s back until his manicured fingernails dig into the skin. “I thought about setting this damn bed on fire. Letting the void take it. Getting something smaller. I knew you’d be coming back, and we’d need the space again, but… it’s too much for one person.”

There’s a stretch of silence, broken only by the constant, gentle beat of the fan blades against the air. Cecil’s breathing evens out, his body finally feeling no remnants of the exertions he so eagerly put it through. He feels breath on his neck - less steady, more labored. He chooses not to worry about it, savoring the source instead. Because, finally, _he_ is not in their bed. _They_ are in their bed. And _they_ are about to fall asleep together, and Cecil thinks perfection might be real after all.

He doesn’t think so for long. “Cecil… I can’t…” Carlos is moving, not pulling away from him, but adjusting himself so it would be easy to do so.

“Where are you going?” Cecil asks immediately, because after endless months of solitude, the last thing he cares about is clinging too hard.

Carlos inhales slowly, face screwed shut like he’s preparing to rip off a bandage. He rips it, quickly. “Cecil, I have to go.”

Cecil hears the words.

He hears them again, repeated in his mind.

He laughs at what must be a joke, though he doesn’t think it’s funny. “Carlos, don’t be silly,” he chides with an unconvinced smile.

But Carlos is pulling himself away, tearing himself out of bed, and it feels like a piece of Cecil is torn away with him. He watches silently as the scientist gathers his clothes, quickly and sloppily pulling them back on his sweat-slicked body. Boxers, then jeans, then t-shirt, then flannel. The same he had been wearing when he knocked on the door, unannounced. A surprise. The best possible surprise.

Cecil tries to understand, still too confused to speak. Carlos doesn’t even glance at the closet, the closet that’s still filled with his clothes - clean clothes, new clothes, fresh clothes, clothes that he hasn’t been wandering in through endless time and sand. He puts on the same clothes. Cecil decides he understands, concocting an explanation without seeking validation: Carlos has been gone for a long time, in a hostile environment, away from comforts and luxuries. He is used to those clothes. He is used to sleeping on the ground. Being naked in a plush bed must feel strange. He needs time to adjust. This is understandable. This must be true.

“Darling,” he finally makes his throat work again as Carlos picks up the labcoat half-hanging from the windowsill, “that coat is filthy.” He wants to remind him where he is.

Carlos doesn’t turn to look at him. “The price you pay for wearing white in a desert.”

Cecil pushes himself up until he’s almost sitting, shivering as the blanket slides down his slender shoulders. “There’s a closet full of clean ones, good as new.”

“I prefer this one.”

It’s a flat statement, not signifying anything. Confusion is slowly giving way to disappointment. “Carlos, love,” he holds out his hand, “come back to bed. You need rest.”

Carlos risks a glance over his shoulder. Cecil is leaning toward him, hands steady with insistence. The patches of pigment-drained skin across his chest have started shifting. They do not settle on a shape, but twitch lightly, prepared to transform at the first flash of recognizable emotion. His eyes - one blue, one brown, one the mere shape of an eye represented by coloration on his forehead - are all wide, brewing with hope. And fear. It’s too much to handle. Carlos looks away. “I told you, Cecil. I can’t stay.”

“That is not funny, Carlos.”

“It isn’t supposed to be.” He turns to face him now, coat buttoned, shoes laced, slipping his glasses up his face. He tries to look confident.

He looks defeated.

Cecil moves slowly, unsure of every movement as he scoots closer to the edge of the bed. The blanket falls away, the cold forgotten. He feels a flicker of embarrassment at being so naked, so exposed, so wanting - while Carlos is fully clothed and utterly uninterested. “I don’t know what you’re-”

“I have things to do. Important things.”

Cecil braces himself for the cliche that he’s about to unleash, unable to find any way to avoid it. “More important than me?” It sounds every bit as horrible as he’d imagined, but he can’t make himself care. He still doesn’t understand. The bed is too big again. It’s too big for one person. He throws aside the blanket - a bit more roughly than he means to - and shakily pulls himself to his feet. On the opposite side of the room. Away from Carlos. Confusing, incomprehensible Carlos.

The bed separates them. Carlos is thankful for the barrier.

The sun is almost set, sending streaks of deep, golden light through the breaks in the curtains. It’s barely enough to illuminate the room.

“Cecil,” Carlos pulls back his shoulders, preparing for the worst, barely able to actually speak the words, “I have science that needs to be-”

“ _Stop_.”

It’s the harshest word Cecil has ever spoken. He wishes it could have sounded harsher.

Carlos looks at the floor, unable to bear the sight of Cecil’s skin swimming with a pattern of breaking hearts and bursting flames. He knows there’s nothing he can say, no way to make it hurt any less than it will - than it already does. He adjusts his glasses and starts for the door.

“I said _stop!_ " Cecil’s voice is suddenly a roar. He runs to the closet, tearing through sea of garments until his fingers close on smooth silk. He pulls the silver robe off of the hanger and onto his body so roughly that it threatens the delicate stitching. When he clumsily ties the sash and turns back to the door, Carlos already has it open.

“I’m sorry, I can’t-”

“Yes, you fucking can.” Cecil needs only two long steps to make it to the door. He half-expects Carlos to run from him, though even the idea of it sends a shiver of fear up his spine. When he makes no move to leave, Cecil takes the opportunity to grab his arm, physically turning him so he has no choice but to look him in the eye. “One night. _One night_ , Carlos. You had _months_ out in the desert to do your science, and now you can’t even give me one night?” The anger is quiet now, his voice barely more than a whisper. He pulls Carlos close, cupping his face in hands that aren’t quite gentle. “I was starting to lose my mind waiting for you, Carlos. But I did it. I waited. How long are you going to make me wait this time?”

Carlos is silent. His jaw is moving, setting and resetting as his eyes lose their focus. “I’ve already stayed too long, Cecil-”

“You _just_ got here, that doesn’t make any sense. It’s only been a few hours-”

“And that’s too much. It’ll already be confusing enough for you. The longer I stay, the worse it-”

“Carlos, _stop talking_.” Cecil manages to keep his voice calm, even though he speaks with authority. His hands are still on either side of Carlos’s face, feeling each twitch of muscle against his palms. He slides one hand up to brush the tangled hair off of his creased forehead, trying to keep his movements as soothing as possible. “Carlos, Darling Carlos, please. Breathe. Listen to me, listen to my voice.” He runs his fingers back through thick, dark hair, giving a grounding tug to help Carlos focus. Carlos, who is falling apart at the seams. “Carlos, love, I don’t know everything that happened out in that desert. I don’t know what it was like. But whatever it was, that’s done now. You’re home again. You can stay here, and not have to worry about anything. Science will take care of itself for the night. Please, _please_ , come back to bed.” He pulls himself closer, until it feels like every part of them is touching, until they are sharing breath. Carlos shows resistance on his face, but his body is eager. Cecil tilts his head, ghosting his lips across his scientist’s skin. “Stay with me tonight. Share our bed with me again, our home. Whatever you have to do, it can wait until morning. We’re together again. Let us be together, please. ”

Cecil expects Carlos’s lips to be hesitant against his. He finds quite the opposite. Carlos’s trembling hands steady immediately, wrapping around the radio host and savoring the easy slide across pale silk. Cecil finds himself engulfed in the strong embrace, the crash of lips, the scrape of teeth along his tongue. The world slips out of focus, softening around the edges, and Cecil prepares to give himself over to it, to forget whatever it was that just happened and willingly surrender into feeling this. This, and nothing else.

The cold of sudden separation is as sharp as ice. The wave of emptiness hits Cecil, and the loss is so painful that he gasps. It’s a struggle to open his eyes, and it seems impossible when he sees that Carlos has only pulled himself a few inches away. Those few inches feel as vast as the starless void.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos chokes on the words, the tension in his throat visible down his neck. “Cecil, I’m so- I shouldn’t have come. It was too soon. But I wanted to-” He screws his eyes shut, inhales harshly through his nose, and runs to the stairs.

Cecil trips over his own feet as he follows after him, racing down the staircase with speed he didn’t know he had. “Carlos! Carlos, please, please wait-!”

He grabs Carlos’s wrist just as Carlos grabs the handle on the front door. Everything is terribly still. Their breathing is uncomfortably loud in the thick silence.

“Cecil,” as he turns away from the door, Carlos keeps his eyes locked on where their hands are connected. He can’t raise his eyes to Cecil’s face. He already knows what he’ll see: pale tear marks trailing out of three eyes. No physical tears, no glisten in his eyes, but the even more visible pattern displayed on his devastated face. “I truly am sorry. This was a mistake. I was just here; I should have been able to resist-”

“You aren’t making any sense.” Cecil’s voice is uneven, ready to break. “Why aren’t you making any sense? Please, Carlos, I don’t want you to leave.” His hand runs up the scientist’s arm, all the way to the back of his head. “ _Please_ , don’t leave me again.”

Carlos gathers his courage, prepares himself as best he can, and looks up to meet Cecil’s gaze. The pain is more than he could have imagined. “Don’t worry, love. All you have to do is watch me walk away. And then it’ll be over. I promise.” He’s trembling, each minute quake of his body echoing in his voice. “I’ll fix this, querido. I’ll come back. Completely. I promise you. And even though you won’t, I will remember all of these times. I’ll tell you about them.”

Before Cecil can respond, Carlos presses their lips together, softly, not able to hide the way they are both shaking. “I love you, Cecil.”

And he’s gone.

Gone.

Cecil watches the door as it slams behind him, too stunned to know how to respond.

“Carlos.” He speaks it quietly, not understanding why it can’t be heard.

“Carlos!” He throws the door open as soon as it smacks against the frame. “ _Carlos!_ ”

Carlos.

Carlos?

Cecil furrows his eyebrows. Why had he been saying ‘Carlos’? He glances at his hands. He’s not holding his cell phone. He hadn’t been on the phone with him recently, had he?

He glances around.

Sunset? It was far too early for sunset. He had just gotten home from work a few minutes ago. And… changed into his robe. He makes a face at the soft silk, the only clothing he’s wearing. When did that happen?

He’s holding open the front door, standing half inside and half on the front step. He looks down the driveway, then down the street.

Oh.

Him.

Maybe that explains it.

He must have been talking _about_ Carlos. That’s why he had said the name. That’s why he feels an indescribable weight in his chest. That’s why he thinks he can taste the scientist on his lips. These things always happen when he talks about his brave, absent Carlos for too long.

He wonders how much time he’s lost. He’ll have to check his notes when he goes back inside. Hopefully Carlos will call him soon, and he can tell him about the conversation he doesn’t remember having.

He smiles at the thought of hearing Carlos’s voice again.

He smiles as he watches the figure slowly retreating down the street, nothing visible but the back of his tan jacket, disappearing around the corner.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for reading! You can thank Night Vale's page on TvTropes.org for this particular headcanon, where overexposure to the Light in the Other Desertworld has caused Carlos to become translucent, and the strangeness of time has landed him in his own timeline, in a labcoat stained until it becomes a rather famous Tan Jacket. I can take no credit for the idea, but now I will support it with all my strength.
> 
> UPDATE: If you're looking for more exploration of Tan Jacket Carlos, check out my new drabble collection, ["The Scientist in the Tan Jacket"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/2440631/chapters/5406209).
> 
> Prefer your Cecilos fics fluffier? Check out my other works for some shameless happiness. I LOVE hearing from anyone who reads my fic. Please feel free to come hang out with me at my personal tumblr [blog](http://my-nameless-bliss.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing of Night Vale, or its characters. I only do this because I like my headcanons insane and painful.


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